


The Storm Breaks

by DeJenerative



Category: due South
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:07:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeJenerative/pseuds/DeJenerative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray goes for a walk after 'Strange Bedfellows'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Storm Breaks

**Author's Note:**

> Picks up pretty much right after Strange Bedfellows, so spoilers for the episode.
> 
> Not beta'ed, apologies for any mistakes.
> 
> Originally published in 2000.

I ditched Fraser in the apartment building for one reason. Cause I didn't want to be with anyone. I think I was afraid I'd either get all angry or I'd get all emotional, and I didn't want to be around Fraser if either happened. So, I zigged when he zagged and went out to the car and took off. 

I burned almost a full tank of gas on just driving around, not really thinking, just doing that free-getting-together thing, umm . . . association. I stopped at some greasy diner and had a bite of some greasy fries and hamburger, but could really only choke down coffee. Then I didn't really have anywhere to go, so I went home. To my empty apartment. Well, almost empty, although I've never had a good conversation with Rabbit, the turtle.

So, I tried listening to music, but that just made me think of Stella. I thought about going to bed, but I wouldn't be able to sleep. And I thought about going to the station, but that would just make Welsh send me to a doctor. Or a shrink. So, I decided to do what Fraser says he does when he needs to clear his head. I went for a walk.

It was still hot in my apartment, so, I left my jacket, gun and holster in the apartment. When I got on the street, I realized I didn't really have anywhere to walk to, so I turned right and started walking. I didn't really watch where my feet went, just made sure I wasn't walked into anything that would hurt me, like a car or the street or a crack dealer. I walked and walked and walked, but it didn't really do anything except make my feet sore. 

Then all of a sudden, my feet stopped. I just looked at them for the minute it took me to realize I wasn't moving anymore. And then I looked around to see why my feet had stopped. I wasn't really surprised to see I was outside of the Canadian Consulate. Fraser's home. I stood there for a few minutes, just looking.

I had a little argument with myself about whether I should go in or not, but then my feet decided on their own and I was at the door. I thought about letting myself in again, but finally decided I'd poked my nose in too many places the last few days to do it again. I knocked twice, lightly. I think I was half hoping Fraser wouldn't hear. 

I waited a couple of minutes and had gone down a couple of the steps to let my sore feet take me home, when the door opened. 

"Ray! What are you doing here?" Fraser asked, his voice a little low, like he was afraid of waking the neighbours or something.

"I just . . . Never mind, Frase. It's nothin'. I shouldn't have bothered you." 

"No, Ray, I didn't mean . . . Will you please come in?"

I looked at the dimly-lit Consulate, all official looking, but still homey and welcoming, and then I looked at Fraser, the guy who made it seem homey and welcoming. He was looking at me, a little frown of concern on his face, and his eyes were searching mine, trying to find what was wrong.

And, ya know, I was standing there looking at him and I suddenly realized why I was drawn to Fraser. Drawn like an iron to a magnet or a bee to a flower, for its whatsit, pollen. I was standing there, and my brain was half-fried from not sleeping for two days and I figured it out. We're alike. Not totally and not on the outside, but on the inside, where it mattered. We needed each other cause we're that thing, ummm, kindred. And I think we both know it and we both know that we can help each other.

So, I nodded and went back up those two steps. Fraser smiled and I felt a kind of sappy, glowy-thing when I realized that he was happy I was there. I looked at him again and realized he was barefoot (which was kind of weird), but he was all buttoned up and everything. So maybe he was having a tough time sleeping tonight, too. 

I got inside and said hello to Dief, who had definitely been sleeping, judging from the huge I-could-eat-you-in-one-bite-if-I-so-choose yawn I got. When I straightened up from rubbing his ears, I could feel Fraser behind me, kind of hovering, like he was afraid I'd shatter on the floor. Well, maybe he wasn't too far off on that. I did feel kind of ragged around the edges.

I turned around, and, yup, he was right there, that concerned look on his face. 

"Are you alright, Ray?" Fraser asked, still quiet-like.

"I'm good," I said, but then my feet went back to work and took a step so I was in his personal space. And, ya know, it felt good. I feel better the closer I get to Fraser. And, yes, I've thought that through to the end, and, no, I haven't really thought about it. Wow, that made no sense at all. You know what I mean.

So, I was standing there, just being beside Fraser and he didn't look like he minded any. Fraser was just kind of standing there with me, quiet for once.

And then my feet were finished the coffee break or whatever they were on and they took another step, so I just naturally opened up my arms and then I was hugging Fraser. I let me head fall on his chest and, as I listened to his strong heartbeat, I realized that it all felt right.

Fraser stayed still just long enough for me to wonder if maybe he didn't think it felt right, then he kind of folded me in and his long arms were wrapped all around me. It was like I was in a Fraser cocoon. And if I thought hugging Fraser felt good, being hugged back was exper . . . expi . . . exponentially better. By, like, tonnes.

Fraser was all warm and I hadn't realized how cold I'd gotten walking outside with just a t-shirt on. I shivered a bit as I started to warm up and Fraser just squeezed me tighter and started doing this circular, rubbing thing on my back. Swear to god, I just about melted into my boots. I hadn't been held like that in years.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, standing together in the entranceway of the Consulate. Finally, slowly, like he was reluctant, Fraser put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me away a little so he could look at me. He ducked his head a little and looked me in the eyes, trying to see if I was going to fall apart, I guess. He smiled this sweet, tender smile that almost melted me again and said, "Would you like a cup of tea, Ray?" 

I smiled back at him and just nodded, cause I didn't really trust my voice. Not that I was going to cry or anything, it just wasn't working too well.

But then Fraser pulled me back in for a little hug that, I could tell, was meant as a strengthening hug. But it did the opposite with me and I just broke down. It was like Fraser flipped a switch in me and all my grief that I never expressed about the divorce came out, all my sadness and loneliness over losing Stella, all my loneliness from being undercover and I think even some of my sadness and anger over my parents leaving came out. And all those feelings didn't come out in manly ways like in boxing or getting drunk or anything like that, no, they came out in about a gallon of tears on Fraser's soft, flannel, really quickly wet shirt.

I don't know who was more shocked, me or Fraser. I wouldn't have blamed him if he had turned and run out into the night as fast as he could, but then I remembered how he had smiled at me and I knew he wouldn't do that. Not to me.

It took him a few seconds, he is a guy after all, but he's Frase, too, so he adjusted. Mentally, I mean, and then physically, so I was all wrapped up in warm Fraser again and he was doing that rubbing thing again and I knew it was alright. So, I just hung on to Fraser and rode it out, until I was all cried out.

And I mean all cried out. Like I said, at least a gallon. I was down to a trickle and little hiccups when I was kind of able to think again. And Fraser started walking me backwards, kind of like dancing. I wasn't in any shape to be leading anyone anywhere, so I just went with it. And he wasn't half bad, cause I didn't run into Dief or anything and Fraser kept doing the circle-rubby thing on my back.

Then we were back to just standing and he waited a couple of minutes before he kind of whispered, "Okay, Ray?"

Now, I didn't really want to, but I nodded my head into his chest and got out a pretty strangled sounding, "Ya."

Fraser must be kind of psycho . . . ummm, I mean psychic, cause he made one of those Canadian 'hmmm' noises, rested his chin on top of my head, and just held me a little tighter. 

I swear to God, I haven't felt that good since . . . well, I can't remember when. I mean, I still felt like shit over Stella and everything else, my head felt like it was going to explode and I couldn't breathe through my nose, but I felt great. Like I was finally seeing the sun after years of storms. I think I saw the storms break the first time when I saw Fraser, screwed up my courage and walked over to hug him. Then the clouds were gone, banished like my bad dreams, when he gave me that dream catcher. And now, standing in the Consulate, feeling protected and, well, ya, loved, in Fraser's arms, it was like dawn was finally breaking. And the sun felt so damn good. So, I was quite happy to stay there. 

But then I started to think about what Fraser must be thinking. Granted, he didn't push me away when I started crying, but we were just standing there, hugging, so who knows what he was thinking.

So I gave him a little squeeze and, really reluctantly, pushed myself away. I couldn't bring myself to look Fraser in the eyes (I think I was afraid of what I would see there), so I looked to see what room we were in. We were in the kitchen, so I sat down on one of the chairs around the little table. I sat there, looking at my feet and sniffling, hoping and wishing and praying Fraser wouldn't tell me to leave.

Fraser just stood there for a minute (I could see his feet, in socks, which was still weird), then his feet went over to the stove and back in front of me. But closer. Then he crouched down to look me in the eyes, but I kept looking at the floor. Then his hand was cupping my chin and I had no choice but to look at him. And that same sweet smile was on his face and I knew, I just knew, that Fraser didn't think any less of me and he sure as hell wouldn't tell me to leave.

Then I knew why he went over to the stove, cause he started wiping my face with the soft towel thing that had been hanging on a hook by the stove. Wiping away my tears. Nobody had done that since I was a little kid and then it was my Mom. I don't even remember crying when I got shot. I cried after the divorce but no one was there to wipe them away. Although, I guess Fraser was wiping away some divorce tears. And it felt good. 

When Fraser had wiped away the last tear that had trickled out, he stayed there for a minute, looking at me. I gave him this little smile and he immediately smiled back, like he was encouraging me or something. Which, I guess, he was.

"Alright, Ray?"

"Ya, I think so," I answered. And when I thought about it, I was alright. For the first time in a long time. And it was cause of Fraser. He nodded, like he knew I was better and stood up. He went over to the stove and put the kettle on, for the promised tea, I imagine. Then he came back and pulled a chair over and sat down beside me. Did I mention I feel better when Fraser's close by?

We sat there for a while, until the water was boiling, then Fraser went and made the tea and found some muffins and brought it all to the table. When I had the hot cup in my hands, I just sat there and looked at it for a while. Then Fraser softly cleared his throat. 

"Do you want to talk?" Fraser asked, all soft and careful like he was afraid I'd run away. And I think if he had asked me two hours earlier, I would have. Run away, that is. But I was better, I was calm. Fraser had made me calm. After I cleared my throat, I answered him. 

"Ya, I could talk," I said.

And we did. And we still do. And the storms have never come back.


End file.
